The best place was probably in Northbridge, living in the pylon of a suspension bridge overhanging Tunks Park. It lasted half-a-year before Ashwyn Falkingham

and his fellow squatters were thrown out.

''That was a really beautiful place to live. I stayed six months under the bridge and cooked on a fire each night,'' says the 26-year-old student of renewable energy engineering.

''Within the past eight or so months I've roughly been through one property a month.

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I was in a place in Leichhardt, then had to move to Erskineville, then to Marrickville, then to another place in Redfern, then to Hurlstone Park, then to Kensington, then to where I am now.''

According to people involved in community law and rental advocacy, squatting has changed a good deal in the past few decades. It is not the domain of the truly disenfranchised, they say, as it is too unstable for these people.

''In the '70s, squatting was very political,'' one said. "Now it's, well, very middle class."

Many squatting in Sydney come to the practice after travel in Europe - particularly through London and the Amsterdam squats. ''The laws there are a little more organised,'' Falkingham says. ''And a little more civilised, if you will.''

For some, it is a political decision - a desire to arrest gentrification; to make accommodation more equitable; a decision, in the words of one, to not sell his labour so he might pay someone else's mortgage.

There is a vague fraternity of squatters in Sydney - in the industrial estates on the approach to Marrickville, shop fronts in Rozelle, terraces in Redfern. They are in loose contact. Sometimes squats come up on trading sites such as Gumtree. Others identify each other through community gardens.

When the Herald arranges to meet Falkingham, he nominates a cross street in the eastern suburbs, a few hundred metres from the beach. He lives nearby but this is easier than directions. The house is difficult to find, which suits.

''A friend of mine told me about an abandoned building in the area. I drove around looking for it. I couldn't find it but we found this place - it hasn't been used for a year,'' says Falkingham, who has been squatting for three years.

''It's quite easy to find places that are empty in Sydney. The problem is using it without someone getting angry and leaving it unused for another 10 years.''

Collectors in the latest census counted more than 122,000 unoccupied houses in Sydney. The number would swell substantially if it were to include the thousands of empty warehouses, pubs, churches and shops across the city.

Col James, the former director of the University of Sydney's Housing Research Centre, believes there are thousands of squatters in the city. But there are no firm figures.

The City of Sydney has no data of its own. It evicts squatters from buildings it deems unsafe, but there is no formal process for these decisions. ''We don't keep figures on actual evictions,'' a spokeswoman says. ''Or have a firm policy.''

Transience is the constant state of the squatter. ''Calculated risk,'' says Liam, who has been squatting more than two years. ''I've lost count, but I've been evicted maybe eight or 12 times.''

Most recently, police arrived at a squat where he was living. His housemates were charged. A text message was all that stopped him walking into the raid.

''There's cause for concern but there's a bit of a thrill,'' he says.

"It's exhilarating when you get into a new building and see all this potential and you also know there's a limited time. It's a combination of exhilaration and stress."

After 20 years researching the practice, James says he feels squatting has become more acceptable in Sydney. He points to the Broadway squats in Chippendale a decade ago and the caretaker leases occasionally negotiated with developers - a method he advocates for more buildings.

''I support squatting even up to the point that I just don't see any problem when there are vacant buildings,'' he says. ''Caretaking is a legitimate use of vacant property and it should be supported.''

James is at a loss, he says, to understand any opposition. ''I think it's because they lose control. There are a lot of people who can survive very well without being pilloried by the council or authorities or the coppers.''

Mickie Quick was among the group of people living in the Broadway squats. But he, too, has since moved into renting - he got older, he says, and weary of instability.

''It ebbs and flows,'' he says. ''There's a lot going on at the moment but it drops off very quickly, because eviction here is so swift. The ongoing expensiveness of this city is why it never disappears. Every time I explore an empty building there is usually someone stowed away - they are there, but by nature they keep a low profile.''

Until recently, Madi was squatting in the inner west. The carpentry pre-apprentice moved five times in a year. She is now renting a room in a share-house. ''I decided now, for me, it's important to have a stable space that I can count on being in for a period of time,'' she says.

''My decision to rent doesn't equate to me saying squatting is hopeless … There's a housing crisis going on and it's really almost unapproachable to try and rent. It seems crazy in that situation that there is so much vacant property.''